Unlucky in life
by Vulcanblood
Summary: Maggie gets screwed over quite a bit in her life, so why does she care when her uncle becomes host to an international WPP? Can she learn to set her past aside, and her drink? T for death, destruction, and drinking. triple D, hehehe... R&R please!


The new spring leaves were covered in a thin layer of frost, glistening in the early morning sun. A girl strode through the picturesque scene, complete with a long grey pea-coat and beige woolen scarf.

Maggie Eld walked briskly down the sidewalk, frost crunching under her black booted feet. She pulled up her scarf farther to take away the bite of the cold.

"Damn ice."

She was about thirteenish in age, and had long copper brown hair that looked blonde in the summer. Her eyes were green-blue and long lashed, and now, they were hard set and irritated. Not exactly in the best mood ever, she grumbled to herself.

"Stupid weather. Can't you just snow already?"

She was on her way to pick up groceries at the moment. Maggie lived with her uncle, so she shouldn't have to do all the shopping, but the only time her uncle left the house was to go to the bank, or to buy vodka, whiskey, and beer. She had lived with her drunkard uncle ever since her father, his brother, had died in a piloting accident when he had run into a storm. She had been with him, but had escaped with only a few physical wounds. Including a long, white, scar, that traced the bottom of her neck and across the collar bones. She really didn't care what boys thought of her, but she still tried to cover it up. She had her pride, you know.

Her uncle was okay, she had nothing against him. He drank to deaden the loss of his wife and children in that horrible car accident, and really, she didn't blame him. Maggie snorted at the irony. Her family and those associated were prone to quite violent deaths... She supposed it was just bad luck or some crap like that.

Maggie walked into the door of the grocery store, and grabbed some potatoes, leeks, ramen, assorted vegetables, black berries, dried cherries, and some cranberry juice for herself.

"Yum... Cranberry juice"

She took a look at the shelves of pasta, and selected some pene and a box of fun looking bow-tie shaped ones. As she proceeded to the check out, she passed by the wine display. Maggie picked up her pace, and tried not to look at the alcohol. She wasn't proud of it, but she did drink occasionally. With all the beer and vodka in her house, it was a small wonder she wasn't already an alcoholic. She bought the items and returned to her home of eight years. It was a quite large house, her uncle had inherited it from his great-great granduncle who had been slightly-insane. They called him "Weird Jimmy" as she recalled it. Her great-great-_great_ granduncle supposedly did experiments on chickens and frogs. She shuddered at the thought. Sanity was a luxury for her family, she supposed.

"Uncle Clarence!" she called, "I'm back!" walking in the french doors.

"Oh... good. I just woke up." surprisingly, he was sober. He yawned and rubbed his blood shot eyes. Maggie busied herself with putting away groceries and making some sort of potato pancakes. Her uncle Clarence worked out of the house on his computer, but she really didn't know what he did. She had tried asking, but he always evaded the question. She did know, however, that he could hack a government database within fifteen minutes. She guessed from various incidents, such as remarkably low bills, and mutterings of "amateur" every time a cyber criminal was brought to trial. And there was that one time when she had whined about the canned green beans for lunch that week, and she had watched him change the lunch menu right before her eyes. He had an office upstairs that he locked himself in every once and a while to get "work" done, and she had no desire to know what was inside.

"Hey, Margaret, I need to tell you..." he trailed off and fell onto the oaken table, snoring peacefully. Maggie shrugged. Whatever he had to say could wait until pancakes were done. She made a double batch, so that there would be left overs afterward. She set out butter and syrup for Uncle Clarence, and peanut butter for herself (It was a personal thing). After a while, her uncle woke up to the smell of pancakes. Mmm...

"Morning mister sunshine," she observed tartly, "About time you woke up."

Maggie thanked God for her food and began eating.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me, Uncle?"

A look of confusion crossed his face. Then he remembered.

"Oh yes. I have a couple of friends who need a place to stay. They're coming at eightish..." he trailed off, and began eating his pancakes. Maggie looked over to the antique clock with it's roman numerals and gold face. It was nearly seven fourty-five. She groaned.

_Time to make more pancakes..._

At around eight o'clock, there was a knock on the door. Uncle's eyes shot open, and he straightened his slightly battered suit and answered the door.

"Hello! My name is Mr. Eld, and this is my niece, Margaret."

A large group of people entered. Maggie felt her eyes grow wide. Her uncle conversed with a tall grey haired man with a grey suit and deep grey eyes. She decided to call him "Grey dude." (A/N: Ten points from Ravenclaw for uninventiveness. -L-) They stopped for a moment to glance at her, and she felt herself slipping into oblivion. Damn fainting spells. She grabbed the edge of the table, her hand still clutching a wooden spoon dipped in pancake batter. What the hell was going on? One of the men, a kind looking one with auburn brown hair, and an odd curl sticking out, grabbed her on the way down.

"Ve~! Are you-a alright?"

She nodded. Then snapped back to her normal steely self.

"Uncle Clarence. I need answers. NOW."

Maggie waited until her uncle had seen to his guests. They were now unpacking in the empty rooms upstairs (She had made sure to lock her door), all except for the young man (he looked Italian).

"Ve~! That was scary!" he cried, hugging her and stroking her hair. "My name is Italy! What's yours?"

Maggie's eyebrows furrowed. Italy? The country?

"What the hell is going on?"

Her uncle laughed nervously.

"Well, Maggie, it's quite a long story," he explained. "These people here are countries of the world."

Maggie's eyebrows furrowed once again. Dawhat?

"But... Uncle... what do _you_ have to do with this?"

"Well, my job is to make people disappear."

**A/N: You like story? I knew it! Show your love by reviewing. ^,^**

**I still have pigeon owls, by the way. And coffee, and pie. But mostly coffee. -L-,**

**Daethtofools: HOW MANY STORIES DO YOU NEED WOMAN?**

**-_- Mraw... I has idea! I write idea, I publish idea.**

**Daeth: You forget about idea...**

**Shut up. I'll work on my other stories soon.**

**Stopthattimerave: Didn't you say you were going to write ME a story? **

**Arrgh! Why you guys gang up on me? **

**OkamiLink: You still have not updated Dear Enterprise either... **

**JonesEffectStories: Or Essence of Sentience...**

**Daeth: or Author's Estate...**

**NightOwl: Or your Hetalia ones...**

**Vulcan: GAHHHH! I'm sorry! *sobs* I promise to update when I can! *Is plagued by images of irritable Author friends* But I has a life, you know! **

**It mainly involves algebra... -_- **

**And gingers. :3**

**Don't judge me.**

**~^,^~**


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